


dragon child

by miss_universe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-27 21:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21125825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_universe/pseuds/miss_universe
Summary: Brienne of Tarth never thought she was special, and if she was, it was in the worst meaning of the word. She still believed that — up until she found a golden egg nestled onto the beaches of Tarth.





	1. Chapter 1

Brienne was convinced that she was nothing special, and if she was, it was in the worst meaning of the word. 

She was still convinced of this until her sixteenth nameday, when a golden dragon egg was swept up onto the beach, nestled comfortably in the warm sand. 

Something about it, maybe the brilliant shine of it under the sun, or the strange warmth pulsing underneath its hard shell when she touched it, convinced her to take it with her. She grabbed it and held it close to her, and the heat coming from it threatened her with blisters.


	2. Chapter 2

Brienne didn’t tell anyone about the egg. Something told her to keep her mouth shut about it, so she did. Instead she cupped it and held it close to her, studying it with curious eyes. Sometimes she thought that she could feel a faint thumping coming from it, but that was impossible.

Then the egg fell off her bed and rolled into her fireplace, and a sharp breaking sound filled her room. 

A tiny golden claw appeared in one of the cracks.


	3. Chapter 3

The lizard _(because it had to be a lizard, just a strange lizard with wings because the_ _dragons were gone.__)_ was about the size of her hand, maybe a bit bigger, with strange orange-gold scales and bright, gleaming hazel-pink eyes. It had tiny dark orange frills on its neck that looked like a lions mane. The frills stood out when she tickled its chin, and it made a tiny _chh-chh-chh _hissing sound of pleasure when she did it. 

She stared into its eyes. It stared back, barely blinking, and she was sure that she was being measured. They kept their silent eye contact until it made a rumbling noise in its throat, seemingly pleased with her, and pressed its warm, still sticky body into her neck. 

“Lionheart.” She named it, bringing up one of her hands to cup it close to her. Something hot and bright awoke in her chest, something strange and old and _powerful_. “Your name is Lionheart.” 

Lionheart trilled in agreement, stretched its long neck out to rest on her shoulder and made a squalling, weak roar. Almost translucent grey wisps of smoke came out of its nostrils.

So it wasn’t a lizard after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Brienne was never one for keeping secrets. She was awful at it and she knew it, would trip over her tongue and flush a dark mottled red if she tried. Even so, Lionheart remained a secret from everyone for almost a year, up until Humfrey Wagstaff came to Tarth. 

After the fight, while she was still dripping sweat and bleeding from her nose, flushed with victory and the words _“Alright, Brienne, I will not attempt to marry you off again.” _ringing in her ears, Ser Goodwin wrapped his hand around her arm and tugged her into the armory. She thought he was going to say something to her about the fight, up until he held her squirming, shrieking bag in his hands. 

“Care to explain, my lady, why you have a gods-damned dragon?” He hissed quietly, and she broke down and told him everything. 

“Why haven’t you said anything to your father?” He asked after a moment, making her bite her lower lip. 

“It is well known that King Robert went after all with Targaryen blood. If I tell my father about this, he will be proclaimed a traitor if he says nothing about it, and a kinslayer if he does.” She admitted shakily. “No one looks at our ancestors twice because nothing was ever confirmed or written down, which will change if they find out about my dragon.”

“You won’t be able to hide it forever.” He said. 

“No,” she agreed, “but I don’t have to hide forever. I just have to hide until there is another king.”

A year later, she joined Renly’s march with a cat-sized Lionheart in her bag.


	5. Chapter 5

Meanwhile, Jaime Lannister sat, chained and dirty and bloody. Wolves circled him in his dreams, howling for blood and vengeance.  _ Kingslayer,  they chanted,  _ _sister-fucker, oathbreaker, man without honor! Child-killer!_ Green flames followed in the wolves pawprints.

“Father, brother, sister, help me!” He called, watching the wolves dance in the wildfire. First Tywin appeared, shaking his head and turning away from him. Every step he took away from him made Jaime cry out. 

After him it was Tyrion, who held back tears as he looked at him. “No, brother, I cannot help you. You must help yourself.” He left too.

Finally his golden twin walked to him, her nails long as she cupped his face. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes, thankful that she was there, up until her hand retreated and slapped him. “No lover of mine would be so pathetic,” she sneered, the beautiful red painted on her lips suddenly looking like blood, “this is your darkness, not mine.” 

He shook and called for her as she walked away, gleaming like the sun. The wolves crept closer, their howls sounding like cackling. King Aerys’ laughter. 

A thundering roar came from above then, and he looked up.  _A lion_,  he thought, but no lion had wings or scales. It landed in front of him, shielding him from the wolves and mad kings wanting his blood. A rider was atop it, wielding a sword of flames. 

“Ser,” The rider said, and he woke up. 


	6. Chapter 6

Some of the men in the camp liked to whisper that she was here because she loved Renly, that she got wet at the sight of him. It might’ve been true, a little bit, but she rode for him because he was  _ kind _ first and foremost, to an ugly girl who was only scorned in the past. It made her hope that she and her dragon could be safe with him someday, when he sat on the throne. She could reveal Lionheart and they could serve a king who wouldn’t place their heads on spikes.

_ (All foolish daydreams of him kissing her when she did were best left to what they were — daydreams and nothing more.)  _


	7. Chapter 7

She hadn’t thought that she would make friends, she didn’t have any experience with them. But a few of the men were being kind to her, and she thought she might have finally found a place where she could — maybe not belong, but at least be welcomed by a few. 

Ser Ben Bushy had given her a silver drinking horn, which was impractical, but she thanked him for the gift nonetheless. It filled her with warmth to receive it, and it would’ve been rude to refuse it. She used it to give Lionheart water.

Ser Edmund Ambrose gave her flowers. _(She thanked him, but when in her tent gave_ _them to Lionheart for target practice. She didn’t like flowers; not anymore.) _

Hyle Hunt was the most pleasant to spend time with, and they gossiped about the other men in camp. Some of the things he said she hardly believed, but he spun the stories in ways that were hard to frown at. He was plain of face, but had a warm, easy smile. He gave her one of her favorite books, saying that it might help with her homesickness, and she was smiling by the time she came back into her tent. 

“It’s nice,” she whispered to Lionheart that night, happiness making her cheeks flushed, “not being laughed at. Maybe things will be different here.”


	8. Chapter 8

Brienne was cleaning her sword in the firelight when Hyle came up and threw her a shiny red apple.

“Here,” he said with that same warm, charming smile, “I figured you might be hungry after riding for so long. Anyway, I told you a bit about Big Ben, but let me tell you what I heard today about his brother!” 

Her lips quirked upwards without her permission, and she leaned a bit closer to him to hear his tale, taking a bite of the fruit he had given her. She recoiled at the taste and spat it out discreetly, looking down at the mush in her hand when he was distracted.

Strange. It was rotten. 


	9. Chapter 9

“Women in a war camp,” Lord Randyll Tarly scoffed, stamping a letter with his sigil. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“My lord?” Brienne asked cautiously, unaure as to why she was called in to see him. She had never met the man one-on-one, and judging by his scorn he wasn’t fond of her. 

“You’ve distracted the men.” He said bluntly, turning to give her his full attention. “They’ve made a bet about who can crawl into your bedroll first. Hunt, Ambrose and Bushy started it, although more have joined. You’ve drawn their attention away from the war, where it’s needed, to what is in between your legs. Women have no place in battle, and I think this proves it. Go back to Tarth, woman, and learn your place. It is not here.” Without giving her a moment to process, he dismissed her from his tent.

As she walked back to her tent, his words rang in her ears.  _Learn your place, it is not here. Learn your place. Learn your place._

As if she hadn’t learned how to hold a sword, or the quickest way to bring a man to his knees. As if she hadn’t spent night after night sweating and bleeding back home. Learn your place, he had said, as if she hadn’t already tried and failed.

_My place is by my king, fighting for him. Giving my life for his._

She walked into her tent and curled into her bedroll, not bothering to change her clothes, staring emptily up at the ceiling. Lionheart poked his head out from her bag and made a curious sound, tilting his head. She opened her arms and he nestled into them, licking the tears off from her cheeks. 

The next morning, she had him burn the book Hyle had given her.


	10. Chapter 10

She saw Ambrose and Bushy laughing. She knew somehow it was her they were laughing at, could almost hear their voices.

_(“Big Brienne really thought we liked her! Can you imagine? A pot of gold wouldn’t be enough to get me through it. Slow, dimwitted, ugly Brienne. May the Gods take the poor man who has to be her husband. Tarth is a fine prize, but fuck the cow that goes with it!”)_

In her tent, she held her dragon close to her, letting his head rest on her chest. His body was always a touch too warm, but never quite hot enough to burn her, so sometimes she made him sleep by her feet when she overheated. Although lately she had let him curl up close to her to soothe her heartbreak. Soon enough, he would be too big to fit into her bag.

“You aren’t pretending to like me, right Lionheart?” She whispered to him. He made a cooing noise and tucked his head into her chin. 

“No, you wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry for saying it. You’re my only friend.” 


	11. Chapter 11

“Lionheart,” Brienne hissed to her dragon in excitement, taking off her helmet. “There’s going to be a melee in two weeks! I can compete!” She brushed away half-formed fantasies of Renly praising her, sitting down to start polishing her armor. That wasn’t why she wanted to compete, and she had to focus on her armor. It had to be clean enough to shine! She would be in the presence of her king.

Lionheart let out a puff of dark smoke from his nostrils, rearing up on two legs and letting out a weak spurt of yellow fire. The fire looked more like sparks than actual flames, but it was still a good effort, so she gave him a piece of her meat. He snatched it from her fingers gently and wolfed it down, his long tail flicking from side to side. 

“The best part is: I know exactly who I’m going to knock down first.” She whispered. Lionheart let out a high pitched cackling kind of noise, a  _khee-khee-khee _that rang through her tent. 


	12. Chapter 12

She woke up to hushed whispering and the rustling of clothes. She shot upwards and grabbed the sword next to her bedroll, rolling onto her feet and standing up. “Try it.” She hissed, anger filling her. The shadows of two men painted on the tents walls, and one of the flaps started to open.

Beside her, Lionheart turned to the drinking horn that Bushy had gotten her and roared into it, the sound loud and echoing. The sound of a beast, primal and blood-curling. The men swore angrily and backed away. None of the men tried to get into her tent again, and she earned a new name. 

_ Brienne with the beastly bellow. Beastly Brienne. Brienne the beast.  _

She couldn’t wait for the melee.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed! chapters will be short but frequent!


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